


did it change at all?

by Ironic_Swag7782



Category: IT (2019), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Adult Richie Tozier, Amputation, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Disabled Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, IM the one in denial, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Love Confessions, M/M, Medical Trauma, Swearing, Tenderness, author is gay, because im GAY and want TENDERNESS, i refuse to believe my boy eddie is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 23:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironic_Swag7782/pseuds/Ironic_Swag7782
Summary: “Do you remember when we were kids-?”“Of course I do, Richie, we almost got killed by a fucking clown.”“No, I mean – before that. After school. Everyone else was busy so we just met up, just us, and talked. Before all this bullshit.”“I missed that.” A pause. “I missed you.”





	did it change at all?

It’s bittersweet, when Eddie finally wakes up in the hospital. His left side feels completely unbalanced, like he’s missing something – 

Oh. 

His fucking arm. 

Thinking about it, it was probably a good thing his mom died years ago – she’d absolutely lose her shit finding out he’d been parading around the sewers, half conscious, missing an arm. She’d launch into a spiralling hysteric about campylobacter, and he’d be in the hospital in quarantine for probably the rest of his life. 

Instead of acknowledging that, for once, she’d probably be right, Eddie takes stock of his surroundings. Hospital room, empty sofa, water cooler, Richie asleep on his lap. Pretty standard. 

Except, fuck no, because Richie is asleep on his lap. Of all his daydreams involving Richie – ones he plans to never, ever tell – he’d never think this would be the one to come true.   
Not that he’d ever planned to lose his whole arm during a clown fight, but whatever. 

In order to avoid any more extra awkward situations, Eddie lightly shakes Richie’s shoulder – with one arm, shit – trying to wake him up. It takes him a few tense moments, during which he has to check Richie’s still breathing, but Richie comes to. There’s unbridled panic in his eyes when he shoots up, bolt upright, but that, to Eddie’s relief, softens when they make eye contact. 

The hug that Richie throws himself into is so unexpected and so not-Richie that Eddie is actually shocked silent. 

“I thought you were gunna die, you prick.” Richie says into his ear, and that’s a lot more like it. 

“Sorry. For almost dying,” Eddie responds. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“Dick,” Richie says as he pulls away out of the hug, like it pains him. “The others are here, they’re just back at a hotel getting cleaned up. Doctor said you were supposed to wake up yesterday.” 

“How long…?” 

Richie’s voice breaks. “Three days.” 

He’s silent. He doesn’t even want think about… The image of Richie, alone, waiting for him to wake up, is almost too much to bear. 

“And It’s…” 

“Dead. Gone. Shrivelled up, -”

“Alright, I get the image.” Eddie actually laughs a bit, because the normalcy, the… Richie-ness of it all is so surreal. “Why didn’t you go with them, too? You smell like the sewers.” 

“I…” Richie hesitates. His eyes are still a bit shiny. “How could I leave you, Eds?” 

It takes them ten days to let him out of the hospital, during which Richie is there every day. He makes jokes, gives him stuff to do, or just talks. They seem to do a lot of that these days – they’ve no shortage of conversation topics, after all. 

He hasn’t seen his wife, or heard from her at all, but he elects to ignore that fact and pretends it’s all alright – he’s had enough practise. Somehow, seeing Richie making shitty clown jokes at the end of his bed makes it easier, makes the whole thing easier. The rest of The Losers see him a lot, especially Beverley, who holds his hand and apologises tearfully. In fact, they all apologise, but he tells them all, individually, it could’ve been a lot worse. 

That mentality is what gets him through the frustration of feeling incredibly useless – he didn’t realise how much he used two arms for until he lost one. Stupidly simple stuff, he now struggles to do, and the worst is the looks Richie gives him, pitying and an obvious want to do it for him. After Eddie had snapped at him for taking the dishes he was trying to wash out of his hand, Richie had stopped trying to do things for him; they had had a long talk about how pathetic Eddie felt. 

“Got any sevens?” Eddie asks. He’s kind of got the hang of holding cards with one hand, even with how much they’ve both had to drink. 

“Go fish.” 

“Alright, we definitely aren’t playing the same game.” Eddie says, dramatically throwing his cards down. 

“I mean, Go Fish was all I knew how to play as a kid so…” Richie defends himself, leaning over Eddie to retrieve his drink. Whiskey, straight, because apparently Richie thought he was in the Godfather. 

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Wine-Coolers!” Richie had said, when Eddie had made fun of him for that fact. “This is top shelf!” 

“Still vile.” 

They’re both quiet for a long time after that, the intimate silence resting between them. Somehow they’d both squeezed onto Richie’s only loveseat, Richie sat on the arm, leaning over Eddie. They’re so close, Eddie can feel Richie’s breath on his neck whenever he leans over him or leans forward. 

“Do you remember when we were kids?” Richie comes with, out of nowhere. 

“Of course I do, Richie, we almost got killed by a fucking clown.” 

“No, I mean – before that. After school. Everyone else was busy so we just met up, just us, and talked. Before all this bullshit.” 

“I missed that.” A pause. “I missed you.” 

Their conversation falters at Eddie’s confession, to which Richie makes eye contact with Eddie, their faces inches from each other. 

“I missed you too. A lot,” Richie says, quietly, like a secret. “I heard you’d got married, and that made me really depressed, and I couldn’t figure out why.” 

Eddie doesn’t respond. He thinks if he tried speaking now, words wouldn’t come out. 

“It took me a while to figure it out,” Richie continues. “And a few near death experiences.” 

“But I think we know.” 

“I know.” Richie says. “I know now.” 

Eddie doesn’t know who closes the gap, but he knows that before Richie finishes his sentence, their lips meet. Richie’s hand is cupped round his face, his cheeks are hot and their right hands are linked. 

It feels like an eternity before they break up, flushed and speechless. 

“I can’t believe that took us twenty-seven years.” Richie says.

“Shut up, Richie.” Eddie says, but he’s laughing, and before he knows it they’re kissing again. 

The way he wakes up the next morning is comfortingly familiar – Richie, shirtless, is asleep on his chest on Richie’s creaky bed, and light is pouring through the blinds.   
He isn’t quite ready to move, so instead he buries closer into the bed, wraps an arm around Richie, and feels at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> *writes my first fic of 2019 in late september*
> 
> HEY
> 
> I'm not dead! I actually have had a super busy year omg and I just started uni but i'm writing gay shit instead. bcz fuck the rules
> 
> hmu on my new tumblr @getalongbabe i never post but will reply to messages
> 
> anyway see you all next year when i write again lol


End file.
